


Things You Said When You Were Drunk

by makkurataichou



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Drunken Confessions, M/M, Modern AU, Morning Cuddles, sort of, the drunkfic that no-one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makkurataichou/pseuds/makkurataichou
Summary: Sorey and Mikleo turn a casual drinking game into a competition to see who knows the other best.





	Things You Said When You Were Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Well...technically someone _did_ ask for this...I got an anon prompt on tumblr MONTHS ago for sormik and "things you said when you were drunk", and then chim, jordon, and I ended up discussing drunkfics in fandom and then this happened so...........ANYWAY
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! Please let me know what you think!!

They were both too good at this.

To be honest, neither of them could remember how it’d gotten to this point. Rose had said something about the two of them being “too lame to party on weekends”, and in defiance they’d taken to holing themselves up in Mikleo’s apartment with a pile of historical documentaries and some of Zaveid’s strongest alcohol. They’d never tried drinking before, and so Sorey had suggested they play a game to ease themselves into it—every time either of them got a historical fact wrong, they would take a shot.

So far, however, they’d been through three documentaries and neither of them were showing signs of being even remotely tipsy.

“Sorey, this isn’t happening,” Mikleo sighed, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. “I hate to say it, but we really _are_ pathetic nerds, just like Rose said.”

“Nerds, yeah. Pathetic, not so much,” Sorey countered. “Maybe we just need to try something else. Something we’re not this good at.”

The silver-haired boy cracked open an eyelid and peered at Sorey out of the corner of his eye. “And what do you suggest? Honestly I don’t even know why we’re trying to get drunk in the first place. We’re giving Rose exactly what she wants, and she doesn’t even _know_ it.”

“C’mon, Mik, let’s give it a _shot_.” Sorey gave him a wide grin. “What do you say?”

“I say Lailah’s rubbing off on you.” Mikleo stretched his arms above his head. “Let’s make this quick. I’m getting sleepy.”

Sorey switched off the TV and lay down, his arm resting against the couch’s left arm. “This time, let’s see how well we know each other,” he offered casually, a challenge in his eyes. “We’re best friends, right? It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Mikleo pushed himself upright. “If you were _really_ that confident, you wouldn’t suggest it as a challenge,” he replied, smirking lightly. “You’re on. You’d better not regret this, Sorey.”

“Not a chance.”

* * *

Two hours later, the room was spinning, and Mikleo was wondering whether this had been such a good idea after all. Next to him, Sorey was giving him an unfocused stare, eyes heavily lidded, and he suddenly felt self-conscious under that gaze.

“...what’s my favourite mythical creature?” Sorey finally asked, his lips stretching into a trembling grin.

Mikleo scoffed. Sorey had to be really drunk to ask such a simple question. “Goblins, of course. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“F-fine!” Sorey grumbled something under his breath before murmuring, “your turn.”

“Hmph.” Mikleo smirked. “I actually like your cooking. True or false?”

Sorey squinted at him, thinking for several moments before giving his answer. “False. You’re always complaining about it.”

Mikleo stared him down, neither of them moving a muscle. Then, he let out a defeated sigh and picked up his shot glass, downing the contents in one gulp.

“W-wha? Mikleo?!”

“You use too much salt and you burn most things,” he countered, embarrassed, “but you cook meat well. And your baking isn’t bad, either.”

Sorey laughed giddily. “I’m just glad I could get a compliment from the person who makes the best soft serve I know.”

“...just take your turn,” Mikleo muttered while burying his face in a couch cushion, embarrassed..

“Alright.” He heard the smile in Sorey’s voice, heard the hesitation in his voice when he finally asked, “do you like someone?”

Mikleo lifted his head from the cushion, blearily meeting Sorey’s gaze. “Like? What kind of like?”

“Y-you know what kind.” Sorey’s face was red, and Mikleo couldn’t tell whether it was because he was embarrassed or because of the alcohol—presumably a combination of both. “Is there someone you want to...do stuff with. Like hug. And...uh...kiss.”

He gulped. This was what he had been afraid of. They’d finally come to a point where Mikleo couldn’t hide his long-growing feelings for his best friend much longer, and sooner or later he’d be forced to admit to them.

“...yes,” he said honestly. “But you asked me for the answer, s-so...you lose this round.”

Sorey let out a long sigh. “Ugh, I messed up,” he groaned, chugging his shot and refilling his glass, a pout tugging at his mouth. “I could’ve just said it instead of asking.”

An affectionate smile played upon Mikleo’s lips, though he hid it well behind the cushion in his arms. Sorey was endearing to a fault, even when he was drunk. “My turn,” he said, a little louder than he’d originally intended. “You like someone too, don’t you?”

He’d seen the signs when Sorey had begun to arrive at school with his hair more neatly combed than usual, clearly making an attempt to impress someone in their class. He’d heard it in the shy laughs Sorey had taken to responding to Rose’s teasing with. And there was no mistaking the fact that Sorey had _definitely_ been blushing more in general lately...although he’d never been able to figure out who Sorey was so taken with, since Sorey managed to smoothly avert his gaze every time Mikleo caught him distracted.

At the question, Sorey grew still. Mikleo smiled—clearly he’d hit the jackpot. But it didn’t stop his gut from twisting in a painful way at the thought of Sorey being in love with someone else.

“I...I do,” Sorey whispered, confirming Mikleo’s suspicions. “And you...you’ve liked the person you like for a while, haven’t you?”

Mikleo felt his hopes rise and subsequently sink. A part of him wished that Sorey had stopped where he’d paused. But Sorey’s question hit the nail on the head—Mikleo had been in love with Sorey since they were children, ever since Sorey had brought him a flower from their school playground and declared them best friends.

He smiled at the memory. Sorey had gotten an earful from their teacher that day for destroying the flowerbeds, but he’d admitted that it’d been worth it just to see the smile on Mikleo’s face. How could he _not_ fall completely head-over-heels after such a wholehearted declaration of affection?

“Uh, Mikleo?”

Sorey waving a hand in front of his face brought him back to the present. In the time he’d been daydreaming, the brunet had inexplicably moved closer to him on the couch, now kneeling in front of him and peering down at him with a curious look on his face. Mikleo’s heart began to race at the sight.

_‘He’s way too close.’_

“Y-yeah! Yeah,” he forced himself to say, trying and failing to hold Sorey’s gaze before looking off to the side, staring at nothing in particular. “I’ve liked them for a long time now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sorey smile. It was a hesitant, sad smile, and Mikleo wondered if his words had hurt Sorey. After all, he'd been the one to ask the question in the first place.

“And what about you?” he countered. “How long have you liked the person _you_ like?”

The brunet let out a laugh combined with a snort that he would’ve considered embarrassing under normal circumstances. “I don’t know!” he breathed. “It feels like it’s been forever. Maybe all my life.”

Something in Mikleo’s chest stirred at that statement. Coupled with Sorey’s gaze still locked on his, it almost felt as though the words were directed at him instead of some stranger at their school that he barely knew. Who else had Sorey known all his life? Who else could it be?

Then, Sorey laughed again. “But you messed up this time, Mik. So you lose this round.”

“Tch-!” Mikleo clenched his teeth and grabbed the bottle off the counter, taking a swig directly from it instead of bothering to pour it into a glass. “Okay, fine,” he continued, fully aware of the burn in his throat and in his cheeks. “N-now it’s my turn.”

Sorey tilted his head to the side gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and making his eyes crinkle with mirth. Mikleo both loved and hated that expression—loved it for the familiar warmth it brought, and hated it for the things it did to his heart.

“I think the person you like is…”

He paused, suddenly unsure of whether he should go through with this or not. The two of them were alone in his apartment and hopelessly drunk on a weekend, and honestly, he didn’t know how much either of them would remember in the morning.

At this point, he really had nothing to lose.

“...me,” he finished lamely, licking his lips. “The person you like is, uh...me.”

Sorey’s eyes grew dark. His gaze darted between Mikleo’s eyes to his lips, then back up again. His body still towered over Mikleo’s, effectively pinning him against his side of the couch. They remained that way for what felt like an eternity, Mikleo’s heart hammering against his chest so loudly that he could practically hear it.

“Can you guess,” Sorey finally breathed, “how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, Mikleo?”

Mikleo’s heart leapt into his throat. There was absolutely no way he could answer that question...especially not with Sorey being _so close_ and making it harder for him to think straight with every passing moment.

“A...a year,” he whispered, staring back as confidently as he could, trying to pool all his knowledge of Sorey into a single guess.

He thought he knew his best friend better than anyone else. But as Sorey silently reached forward to cup the side of Mikleo’s face with a warm palm, brushing a thumb over his cheek, looking at him with more longing and love in his gaze than Mikleo had ever thought him capable of, he began to realize that this was a Sorey he didn’t know...a Sorey he wanted to know more than anything.

And as the brunet leaned in closer to press their foreheads together, Mikleo made no move to push him away.

“Five years,” Sorey whispered, breath hot against Mikleo’s lips, “and three months.”

Then, he pressed their mouths together.

It was a chaste, warm kiss, but Mikleo could feel the longing behind it, the unspoken words that Sorey tried to pour into it as he pushed himself closer. And Mikleo did not hesitate for a second, twining his arms around Sorey and pulling him in until he was lying flat against the couch, lips still molded against Sorey’s, their bodies pressed close together.

They pulled away several moments later, Sorey bracing himself above him, and there was a gentle smile on Sorey’s face, so tender that it made a shiver run down Mikleo’s spine.

“I love you, Mik,” he whispered, leaning down to nuzzle Mikleo’s neck and pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. “I really, really, love you.”

“Sorey…” Mikleo felt as though the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. This was everything he’d ever dreamed of—kissing his best friend and basking in their shared feelings. It was perfect...except for one thing.

“You’re drunk, Sorey,” Mikleo said softly, bringing a hand up and threading his fingers through Sorey’s hair. “You won’t remember this in the morning.”

“...m’not drunk,” Sorey murmured against his neck before pulling away and giving him a crooked smile. “See? I know exactly what I’m doing. _You’re_ drunk.”

Despite himself, Mikleo laughed. “I won’t forget this, though,” he said sincerely, craning his neck up to place another kiss against Sorey’s mouth. “I could never forget,” he breathed, seeing Sorey’s lips tremble in response.

If it was even possible, Sorey leaned in closer and brought their foreheads together. “I won’t either,” he insisted before bringing his lips to Mikleo’s again to prove his point. This time, Sorey coaxed Mikleo’s mouth open with his own, allowing their tongues to brush against each other. They pulled apart a few breathy moments later, cheeks flushed with their need for more.

“I...I won’t,” he repeated, too breathless to say anything else.

Mikleo wanted to believe his words, especially when Sorey was looking at him with so much longing in his gaze. He reached up to cup Sorey’s face in his hand, smiling when the brunet leaned into his touch. “I..want that to be true,” he admitted, fingers reaching back to trace the shell of Sorey’s ear. “I want you to remember this. I want this to be real.”

“It _is_ real.” Sorey beamed at him before leaning down and pulling him into another lingering kiss. “This is real, Mikleo,” he murmured against his lips. “I want this just as much as you do.”

Tears pooled at the corners of Mikleo’s eyes. “I want this, Sorey,” he gasped. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea—”

He cut himself off when Sorey placed feather-light kisses against his cheek, and closed his eyes when lips brushed over his eyelids one-by-one, kissing his tears away. He allowed himself to succumb to the feeling of Sorey’s arms around him, their legs tangled together and their bodies flush against each other from chest to hip. And when Sorey began to trail kisses down his neck, Mikleo did nothing to push him away, letting out a soft whimper when lips began to suck at his collarbone.

“Tell me if I’m going too far,” Sorey breathed against his skin.

Then, he slipped his hands underneath Mikleo’s shirt, and in that moment, Mikleo knew he’d never wanted anything more desperately than this.

* * *

The next morning, Mikleo awoke with a terrible headache, his face half-pressed into a soft pillow. It took him a while to remember where he was before he suddenly shot upright, letting out a shout of Sorey’s name.

The first thing he registered was that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The second was that he was no longer on the couch, but in his bedroom. And the third was the fact that he wasn’t alone—warm arms twined around his waist and pulled him back down and against an equally bare chest, and Mikleo felt his face heat up at the contact.

_‘Oh. Oh no.’_

“Mikleo…” Sorey mumbled into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep. It’s Saturday.”

He wanted to scream, _‘how am I supposed to go back to sleep when we basically made out all night and I don’t even remember when we moved to my room or what we did after—’_

Mikleo cut his train of thought off right there. As much as he'd enjoyed last night, he needed to know whether Sorey remembered. He’d said that he wouldn't forget, and that he _loved him_ , and so many other things Mikleo had completely lost track of. All he remembered was the way Sorey had whispered those words into his ear and neck, his voice so needy and desperate that it had driven them both insane.

He needed to hear them again, but from a Sorey that wasn't completely inebriated. And so, slowly, he inched around in Sorey’s hold until they were facing each other, the bridge of his nose tucked directly underneath Sorey’s chin.

“Sorey,” he called, nudging the brunet’s jaw with his nose. “Hey, Sorey.”

“...mm?” came the response, laced with sleep.

He paused, wondering if this was a good idea after all. “Do you...remember what happened last night?”

Sorey forced his eyes open and blinked a few times, his gaze still unfocused. “...yeah,” he murmured, his eyelids already threatening to close again. “I’m pretty sure...I kissed you...”

Mikleo smiled wryly. “You did a lot more than just _kiss_ me, Sorey.”

At that, Sorey’s eyes shot open and his face turned a bright shade of red. “I-I…” he stammered before suddenly noticing his hold around Mikleo's waist. With a start, he pulled his arms back like he'd been burned.

The gesture made Mikleo's chest ache. Sorey clearly remembered last night, at least to some extent...but he didn't seem happy about it. Mikleo wanted nothing more than to pull him close and tell him that it was alright, that he felt the same, but before he could do anything of the sort, Sorey spoke again.

“This isn't...how I’d wanted this to go,” Sorey whispered. “I'm sorry, Mik, I wasn't thinking at all last night...this is—”

Mikleo's heart sank. So they hadn't been repressed feelings, but feelings that had been conjured up by the alcohol. Sorey didn't feel the same way about him. But the thing about the five years and three months spent wanting to kiss him...had that been a lie too? Had all those confessions of love been fake? Had all that pent-up longing been completely fabricated?

“—and I was actually hoping to take you to coffee first before I told you how I felt—”

At that, Mikleo froze, squinting at him. “Excuse me?”

Sorey was smiling sheepishly, a soft blush on his cheeks that made him look incredibly lovely in the morning light. “We always get coffee together on Saturdays, right? I was going to...uh...confess to you then. After treating you, of course—”

“Wait, what?” Mikleo blinked twice. “You were planning to confess to me today?”

“Y-yeah,” Sorey admitted, looking away shyly. “I just wanted it to be simple. Not like...this.”

Completely in disbelief, Mikleo’s jaw dropped. _‘He'd been planning this all along, he feels the same, this is real—’_   
  
“That's...not like you,” he blurted out, still too shocked to process anything else. “It's so...straightforward. Not romantic at all.”   
  
Sorey's expression grew soft, almost sad. “It's what you prefer, though, right? Not making a big deal out of things.” He turned so he was laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, placing his hands on his chest. “Though I guess it would've been easier than this, since...since you don't feel the same…”   
  
“No, no.” Mikleo shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, Sorey, I—”   
  
“I'm sorry, Mikleo.” Sorey turned to look at him, and the sadness reflected in his eyes was enough to make Mikleo’s heart crack. “I shouldn't have forced my feelings on you like that. I'm so sorry.” 

Mikleo couldn't take much more of this. He was breaking Sorey's heart with every passing second with his silence, and he hated himself for it. But the words refused to come to him, no matter how hard he tried.

And so, going against all rational thought, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Sorey's waist, tugging himself closer. Confused, Sorey turned his body so that they were facing each other again.

“Mikleo…?” he whispered hesitantly.

Mikleo shook his head again, forcing himself to look up into Sorey's eyes and trying not to lose himself in that gaze, filled with so much hope. “ _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing, Sorey,” he said, placing a hand on Sorey's cheek and leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “ _I'm_ sorry.”

“Mikleo, what—”

“I love you, too.”

Sorey's eyes grew wide. Mikleo pulled back and met his gaze, smiling faintly. “I love you, Sorey,” he repeated. “I'm sorry I never said so last night. I...I really didn't think you would remember.”

“Me neither,” Sorey breathed, taking Mikleo's hands in his. “I didn't think you'd remember either, but maybe that's what made it easier to say.”

Mikleo let out a shaky laugh. “Come to think of it, I never drank my last shot either, huh?” He smiled. “I guess that means I lose.”

Sorey beamed at him. “Guess you owe me a prize, then.”

“Hmm.” Mikleo looked up at him, a challenge in his eyes. “Then...I bet I can take you out to coffee and make it more romantic than you'd planned.”

“What? No fair, Mikleo! I was trying to keep it simple in the first place!”

“Knowing you, ‘simple’ still probably meant getting the barista to draw hearts in my cup.” Mikleo grinned at Sorey's sudden shocked expression. “I'm not wrong, am I?”

Sorey averted his gaze and pouted. “It was just gonna be one heart, okay? No big deal.”

“Like that wouldn't have given it away,” Mikleo teased, poking Sorey in the ribs. “We should leave soon, though, the place gets crowded closer to lunchtime—”

He was cut off by Sorey pushing him back into the bed and towering over him, a sly grin on his lips. “The bigger the crowd, the better, right?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss Mikleo's neck. “It's more romantic when more people see you confess.”

Mikleo let out a soft whimper as Sorey continued to pepper kisses along his collarbone. “I...I don’t need that to make it romantic,” he breathed, moaning when Sorey bit down on a bruise from last night.

“But you need me to agree to go out with you, right?” Sorey kissed him right beneath his jaw, smiling faintly against his skin. “You're gonna have to sell it to me, Mikleo. Go all out.”

“F-fine.” Mikleo brought a hand up to Sorey’s chest, pushing him away slightly. “Let's give it another hour.”

“Gladly,” came Sorey's response before he bent down to kiss Mikleo again.

* * *

Two hours, two foamy cappuccinos, and one extremely public confession later, to Mikleo's immense relief, Sorey finally said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title: Two Teens Mistake the Feeling of Being Buzzed For the Feeling of Being Drunk


End file.
